


More Impromptu Angel/Spike/Wesley smut

by flaming_muse



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: April Showers Challenge, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-04-19
Updated: 2005-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-18 09:49:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More of what it says on the packet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Impromptu Angel/Spike/Wesley smut

**Author's Note:**

> a prequel to [this bit of smut](http://archiveofourown.org/works/187606)
> 
> PWP, written for TheBratQueen and JustHuman
> 
> Originally posted to my LJ on April 19, 2005.

There are a lot of things that Angel likes about Wesley, like his intelligence, his flashes of humor, his sense of honor, his determination to do what's right, and his appreciation for music that doesn't sound like screeching cats. There are a lot of things he likes particularly about fucking Wesley, like the way he always gives himself over fully to it, his flattering eagerness to please, the way he moves his hips to try to get Angel just that much deeper, and that amazing thing he does with his tongue. Yeah, when he thinks about it, there's pretty much nothing he _doesn't_ like about Wesley, when fucking him or not.

Still, he has his favorites, and what Angel likes the most about fucking Wesley right at that very moment are the fact that Wesley just can't seem to hold himself still when Angel is buried deep inside of him and the little noises he makes while tries.

Sure, Angel isn't really helping with the whole not moving thing, given that if he'd wanted Wesley to be able to concentrate he wouldn't have told him - since making Wesley feel like you couldn't get through the day without him (usually true) was the best way to get him to cooperate without arguing about what he was supposed to be doing - to push his slacks down and let himself be fucked on Angel's lap in his big leather desk chair, but this was much more enjoyable. And he absolutely loves the way Wesley whimpers as Angel lazily strokes his cock and holds him in place with his other hand on his shirt-covered stomach.

Wesley's erection is hot in his hand, thick and pulsing with life, and it gets harder as he slowly strokes it, up and down, up and down, adding a twist for variation and because it makes Wesley clench around Angel's cock. They both groan softly, and Angel presses his hand more firmly on Wesley's stomach, a silent reminder for him to keep still.

"Let me do the work," he says, and Wesley relaxes again, just a bit, but enough that Angel knows he's trying.

Angel feels like he could do this all day, just toying with him, touching him, listening to those little gasps as Wesley's body gets even warmer, his heat bleeding through their clothes and warming Angel as well. He nudges Wesley's open collar aside and kisses the side of his neck, drawn to the blood pumping through his veins. Biting isn't an option, though Wesley would probably let him if he asked, and that thought makes it impossible for him not to mouth the spot he would have sunk his teeth into if he had allowed himself.

"Angel," Wesley whispers, his hands tight on the arms of the chair where Angel had placed them. His cock twitches in Angel's grip, and Angel can feel the tension in Wesley's back where is presses against Angel's chest.

"Shh," Angel replies, slipping his hand down further to cup Wesley's balls, rolling them gently and giving Wesley a chance to breathe more easily for a moment. "Let me touch you."

"I'm not - " Wesley swallows, and Angel finds his long, slender neck too irresistible not to kiss. "I'm not trying to stop you."

"I know. You always give me what I want." Angel sucks gently on the pulse point beneath Wesley's jaw, getting an answering gasp and speeding of the blood rushing beneath his lips. "And what I want is you."

"Angel..." This time there's a definite squirm, and Angel feels fiercely proud that his words can evoke such a reaction.

He slides one finger between Wesley's thighs, touching the slippery skin around where Angel's cock throbs inside of him. "I'd like to fuck you. God, I want to." The need is an insistent ache.

Wesley's body tightens around him. " _Please_."

"Not yet," Angel says, just barely sliding his finger back and forth where their bodies are joined. "Maybe not at all." He ignores Wesley's whimper of protest and skims his hand over his bare thighs down to the bunched clothing around his knees.

And then he wraps his fingers around Wesley's cock again and resumes the slow, patient stroking, closing his eyes and just enjoying the way Wesley feels against him. He lets himself get lost in Wesley's panting breaths and tiny, increasingly frequent movements of his body as his arousal builds. Wesley is heavy on him, leaning fully against his chest, his head turned so that he can rub his cheek against the leather headrest. His stomach is tense and burning hot beneath the thin layer of his shirt, and Angel's thumb rubs small, soothing circles on the blue cotton.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Angel is dimly aware that he has a meeting later on and that there's still evil to be battled, but none of it matters. Fuck the shanshu; he's got his reward right here.

"How do you feel, Wes?" Angel asks as the weight of Wesley's cock in his hand becomes so natural he can hardly imagine holding onto anything else.

Wesley's voice is hoarse and breathless, the sound arousing all by itself. "Like I'm going to die if you stop touching me," he says with a pained laugh that turns into a groan when Angel tightens his grip.

"That's not going to happen." Angel twists his palm around the head of Wesley's cock and gets another groan and restless shift of Wesley's body in return. "Although I'd like a couple more hands right now so I can touch more of you."

"I'm not sure I could keep from coming if you did," Wesley says.

The thought of Wesley losing it just by being touched is certainly appealing one, and his own body betrays him with an subtle upward flex of his hips, seating his cock that much more deeply inside of Wesley. "Fuck," he mutters, nipping softly at Wesley's throat as he withdraws a fraction of an inch and then pushes in again, reveling in the smooth tightness of Wesley's body.

"Any time you want to," Wesley replies. His eagerness makes Angel smile, but it also renews his determination that he is _not_ going to rush things just because he wants to fuck Wesley. He _always_ wants to fuck Wesley, always wants to be buried in him, surrounded by him, holding him close, and if he gives into his body's demands the moment's going to be over too soon. Not that coming is a bad thing - quite the contrary - but then all there would be left would be kisses and a few gentle touches before they both right their clothing and reluctantly go their separate ways.

No, they're staying right where they are for the rest of the afternoon, and Angel is just about to tell Wesley that in no uncertain terms when his office doors swing open, and Spike storms into the room.

"Well, isn't _this_ a pretty picture," Spike says, stopping in his tracks a few steps in. Angel knows it must be, too, Wesley all flushed and hard, his clothing in disarray and his cock in Angel's grip.

"Spike," Wesley gasps, tensing as if to move, but Angel keeps him there with the hand firm on his stomach.

Spike closes the doors and saunters forward, his eyes darkening with interest and something that looks a bit like hurt. Angel wonders why he would be upset about finding his two lovers together - it's not like he hasn't been in bed with them dozens of times before - but Wesley tries to move again, and Angel's attention returns to him.

"You should've called; I might've missed the show," Spike says as Angel sucks on Wesley's throat and gives his cock a warning squeeze.

"It wasn't for you," Angel replies. Wesley is tense in the wrong way now, concerned and anxious, and Angel would happily rip off Spike's head if he were willing to take his hands off of Wesley. He wonders if he could call Harmony in to do it.

"Always were a selfish bastard," Spike mutters, sitting heavily on one of the chairs on the other side of the desk. "Well, carry on." He waves an imperious hand at them. "Least you can do is let me watch the big finish."

"Angel..." Wesley squirms - again in the wrong way - and tries to pull away.

Angel spares Spike a furious glare and gets a smirk in return. "Relax, Wes," he says, rocking his hips upward. "Didn't you just tell me you didn't want me to stop touching you?"

"Yes, but..."

"Shh..." Angel pulls out the big guns and says, "Trust me."

There is a tense moment of indecision, and then Wesley relaxes. Not all of the way, not anything like he was before Spike burst in, but enough.

"Spike will make sure the doors are locked," Angel says, glancing at Spike, who nods and gets out of his chair. To no one's surprise, he stays in the room; it would take a far stronger man than either of them is to walk away from a hard and horny Wes. Hell, walking away from any kind of Wes is difficult, which is why he has two vampires circling around him all of the time.

"Just the three of us, pet," Spike says to Wesley as he walks back toward them.

Angel presses a few more kisses to Wesley's throat. "You're safe."

"And the most gorgeous thing I've seen in a long time," Spike adds. "Well, since last night, anyway."

The memory of Spike fucking Wesley against the shower wall sends a little shiver through Angel, which ripples through Wesley when Angel's cock twitches inside of him.

"Yeah, so fucking pretty." Spike's eyes darken, though something less happy than arousal flickers in their depths.

"He's right," Angel says, beginning to stroke Wesley's erection again. It had flagged a little, but it recovers nicely at Angel's touch.

Wesley makes a little whimper, and both Angel and Spike groan.

"Fuck," Spike mutters under his breath, almost a sigh, and he rubs at his erection through his jeans as he turns toward his chair.

"No," Angel says, struck with an idea that will fix both Wesley and Spike's problems and let them all focus on what's most important - Wesley feeling good. "If you're here, you're going to help."

"It'd better not involve running a video camera," Spike says, then looks thoughtful.

"Come here." Angel keeps his hand moving on Wesley's cock, getting his heart beating faster and his attention back where it belongs.

The stimulation works, and Wesley moans, his hips shifting, as Spike rounds the desk.

"Looks like I've got my extra hands now, Wes," Angel says. He pushes Wesley's shirt up and slides his free hand underneath onto fever-hot skin. His eyes drift shut for a moment as he enjoys the sensation; as many times as he's explored every inch of Wesley's skin, he's never sated. He doesn't know if the hunger is part of being a vampire or if it's a result of his feelings for Wesley. Spike seems to have the same problem, but that fact doesn't help him come to a conclusion.

"Unbutton his shirt," he tells Spike.

Spike is quick to comply, opening the garment with gentle hands as Angel keeps a steady rhythm on Wesley's cock.

"How does he look?" Angel asks, the next best thing to using his own eyes.

"Irresistible," Spike says.

Angel nods, sucking on Wesley's throat. "He always is."

Wesley makes a pleased whimper deep in his throat, and Angel wonders idly if it's because they're talking about him like he's so fucking precious or because of what they're saying. Maybe both.

Spike swallows, emphasizing the column of his neck above his dark shirt. Wesley's not the only one who is irresistible, Angel thinks, aching to taste that pale skin as well. Later.

"Got that right," Spike says with a nod. His fingers flex at his sides as his eyes skim over Wesley's body.

"Can Spike touch you?" Angel murmurs into Wesley's ear.

"Yes," is Wesley's immediate response, accompanied by a hitch in his breathing.

"Want him to?"

Wesley's back arches just a bit before he can stop himself. " _Yes_."

Angel grins knowingly up at Spike. "Go ahead."

And Spike drops to his knees before them, his hands already on Wesley's skin.

Wesley's reaction is immediate: a gasp and another arch of his body.

Angel realizes that he's never going to be able to draw things out for the rest of the afternoon, not with both of them touching Wesley. It's a disappointment, but then Spike does something that makes Wesley clench around Angel's cock and Angel doesn't care anymore.

Spike leans in, licking and sucking at Wesley's nipples, and Wesley gasps his name, rolling his head against the chair.

"Like that, Wes?" Angel asks, giving his erection an extra stroke.

"God, Angel..." The tip of Wesley's cock is slick with pre-come, and Angel slides his thumb through it, swirling it around the head. Wesley whimpers again, tense with trying not to move.

Angel pets his stomach, soothing the trembling muscles. "You have no idea how good you feel right now."

"Or how good you taste," Spike says, mouthing his way up Wesley's chest toward his throat.

"Want to taste him?" Angel asks.

Spike's eyes flash to his, surprised by the generous offer. But then Angel's got his cock still inside of Wesley and has him securely in his arms, so he can afford to be generous. "Fuck, yeah."

Angel gives Wesley's erection one last stroke before pulling his hand away, and the sound of protest Wesley makes is definitely good for his ego. "Shh, it's okay. I've got something better. Just keep still."

Spike grips Angel's wrist in a brief squeeze of thanks, and then he drops his head to take Wesley's cock into his mouth.

Wesley clutches at the arms of the chair, biting his lip and hooking his feet around Angel's calves.

"You're not supposed to move; I never said anything about not making noise," Angel reminds him, and Wesley lets out an explosive breath. "Spike's got a beautiful mouth, doesn't he? Especially when he's not talking."

Spike glares up at him, his mouth too busy for him to respond, and Angel laughs. He feels almost light-hearted as he skims his hands up Wesley's chest, skimming over that skin that had been just out of reach. Spike's hand comes to rest on Wesley's hip, helping him keep still, and Angel leans his head back against the cushion and nuzzles against Wesley's hair.

With Spike sucking his cock, Wesley's self-control is crumbling. He groans and whimpers, his hands kneading the armrests and his hips moving in little jerks. He writhes as Angel pinches his nipples, his body clenching helplessly around him again and again, and Angel's own need to move is quickly becoming impossible to ignore. He tries to focus on the heat and weight of Wesley's body, the sounds of his labored breathing and the smell of his sweat, but all of it adds to his own arousal.

"Fuck," he groans, thrusting up into him once. It does nothing to help ease the ache.

Wesley's heart is thundering; not only can Angel hear it, but he can feel it beneath his hands on his bare chest, through the layers of clothing between them, and pulsing around his cock. It's everywhere, and Angel almost feels like it's his heart that's pounding, too.

"Fuck," he says again, completely losing the thread of how he wanted things to play out. He can hear Spike's approving grunts and the slick movements of his mouth as well as Wesley's answering groans. Angel knows just how unbelievably good Spike's mouth can feel, and he thrusts up again, his pleasure doubling with the memory of tongue and suction and the reality of Wesley's body tightening around him.

"Angel..." Wesley presses down onto him, and the way he says his name, like he's the thing he wants most in the world, fractures Angel's control even more.

"Gonna fuck you." He murmurs into Wesley's ear and receives a shiver in response. "Have to fuck you. That all right with you?"

"Yes. _Yes_." Wesley's hand drops to clutch at Spike's shoulder, tangling in his black cotton shirt.

Angel lays his hand over Spike's where it grips Wesley's hip. "Don't stop," he says. There's an amused flash of blue from beneath Spike's lashes, and Angel leaves his hand where it is. It's about all of them together now.

With Wesley on top of him, there's not a lot of room for Angel to move, but as he cants his hips to withdraw and then thrust back into him he's not disappointed at all.

" _God_!" Wesley cries out, and Spike's hand beneath Angel's keeps Wesley from lifting himself up to encourage Angel to do it again.

"Just us, Wes," Angel says with what he thinks is remarkable composure, given that he's about two seconds away from pushing him down over the desk and fucking him so hard they both black out from their orgasms.

Wesley presses the back of his head into the headrest, and Angel can see the strain in his face. "I can't... I can't..." He groans again. "Spike..."

Angel can feel as well as hear Spike's chuckle as Wesley shivers and tries to thrust into his mouth.

"Let us do the work," he says, stroking his fingers down Wesley's bared neck. Then he laces his fingers together with Spike's on Wesley's hip and starts rocking into Wesley's body. He couldn't stop himself if he wanted to.

For all that Angel has learned a lot of self-control over the years - from not drinking from every passing human to not staking Spike on sight - there comes a point where he just can't keep it together anymore. With Wesley clenching around him, whimpering and groaning and babbling absolute nonsense, Angel doesn't stand a chance.

"Harder, Spike," Angel says, really glad that he had the forethought to push the chair all the way back to the wall, because otherwise they'd be skidding all over the place. He hears Spike grunt, and Wesley stiffens, arching up and giving Angel that much more room to move.

"God. Fuck. _Wes_." There is so much heat Angel feels like he's burning up, and his shirt is damp from Wesley's sweat, making it feel almost like their skin is pressed together. He moves his hips in sharp jerks, little, deep jabs that wouldn't be anywhere near enough if Wesley's body weren't clutching at him with every thrust. The chair is squeaking loud enough for even non-vampires to hear outside of his office, and he doesn't give a fuck at all because Wesley's moans are louder and among the hottest sounds he's ever heard in his life.

Then Wesley cries out with dismay, and Angel's eyes fly open. He looks down to see the reason for Wesley's tone; Spike has lifted his head, his lips shining and his eyes absolutely smoldering with desire.

"He's not going to last much longer," he tells Angel.

Angel slides a hand down Wesley's chest and stomach to wrap around his slick cock. Wesley jerks, biting his lip. "Then you'd better get busy," Angel replies, tilting Wesley's erection forward toward Spike's mouth.

"Oh," Wesley breathes, an eager, hopeful sound. Spike licks his lips, and both Angel and Wesley make little noises Angel would have called whimpers if it didn't refer to himself.

"Go on," Angel says, his mouth suddenly dry, and then Spike leans forward and wraps his lips around Wesley's cock, his tongue darting out to lick at Angel's fingers when he doesn't pull them away fast enough. "Fuck," Angel mutters reverently and cups Spike's face, feeling the hollow of his cheek beneath his sharp cheekbone.

Wesley whimpers again, shifting against him, and Angel turns his head, mouthing along his throat. He vaguely remembers that there ought to be a scar beneath his lips, but he prefers the smooth skin beneath the stubble. "Perfect," he says, taking hold of Wesley's other hip and beginning to fuck him once more.

There might not be much room to move, but Angel is so deep that he doesn't care. It isn't long before Wesley is bucking and jerking, desperate for more of Spike's mouth and Angel's cock. Angel is only too happy to comply, thumbing Wesley's nipples as he thrusts up into him as much as he's able.

"Angel... Spike..." Wesley's head thrashes, his chest heaving as he gasps for breath. "Please..."

Angel can't believe anyone in their right minds could resist Wesley's hoarse plea, and he and Spike certainly can't. Wesley cries out wordlessly as they both move with him, united in their quest to drive him over the edge. Angel doesn't even need to move, though he doesn't stop; Wesley's fucking himself on Angel, clenching and writhing he repeats Spike's name over and over.

"More. More," Angel says, not sure which one of them he's talking to, as Wesley shudders around him, curling forward over Spike's bent head. There's just a bit more room for Angel to move, and he takes it, thrusting harder, deeper, moremore _more_ into his breathtakingly - maybe not the best word for a vampire, but he's lucky he can think it at all, given how close he is to his orgasm - willing body.

And then Wesley's slamming back against him, his body an almost painfully tight arc of pleasure, and Angel can't possibly hold back as his climax rips through him like a tidal wave.

Wesley is still trembling when Angel opens his eyes again, and Angel loosens his grip on Wesley's hip to caress his sweat-slippery chest. He wonders briefly if he was too rough with him, but Wesley tilts his head and gives him a blinding smile, erasing his doubts.

"Was that what you wanted?" Wesley asks, and for a moment Angel can't remember that the encounter started because _he_ needed the contact as well as wanting to give Wesley a treat.

"Absolutely," Angel replies, kissing him softly. They're melting into each other as they slump in the chair, and Angel can't think of anything that could make him move.

Spike stands up, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb and then licking the digit clean. "Guess I'll just be going then." He's quite obviously hard in his jeans, but he looks almost drawn in on himself as he takes a step back. "Any time you want a repeat, Wes, you know where to find me."

"Spike..." Wesley reaches out with one hand, and Spike comes back toward him like a moth to flame. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, pet," Spike replies, letting Wesley take his wrist and pull him in for a kiss.

The move puts Spike's head awfully close to Angel's, and when the kiss is over - not after some fairly pretty tongue action that makes Angel's cock twitch with a bit of interest - Angel brings his hand up to cup Spike's cheek. "Thank you," he says as well, and Spike meets his eyes with surprise turning into something far softer.

"Like I said, any time," Spike says. He smiles at them both, bittersweet, and straightens up. "I'll let you two enjoy the post-orgasmic whatevers; I've got a date with the big screen, unlimited cable, and - " He waves his left hand.

"That hardly seems fair," Wesley says, struggling to sit up. Angel lets him, although he keeps his hand on his thigh to keep him from moving from his lap.

Spike shrugs. "It's all right."

"I certainly don't mind returning the favor."

Spike looks extremely tempted, of course, but then he glances at Angel and shakes his head. "You've got work, and I've still got the surround-sound in my head."

Angel thinks he's being pretty kind not pointing out that Spike actually has work, too, but Wesley twists around and fixes him with eyes definitely edging toward the unhappy. Angel sighs. "Why don't you both take the afternoon off?" he says.

The way Spike's face lights up makes up for the sour taste in Angel's mouth that comes with the thought of Wesley paying attention to anyone else, even Spike. Well, at least when Angel isn't there, if only to watch. He suddenly understands why Spike looked so unhappy when he walked in.

"Are you sure?" Wesley asks, but he looks eager, too. Angel wonders for a moment what Spike has that he doesn't, but then Wesley is kissing him with such enthusiasm that Angel's just happy to be giving him what he wants.

Angel smiles when his mouth is no longer otherwise occupied. "Yeah. Enjoy yourselves."

He and Spike help Wesley to his feet and get his clothing righted enough that he'll be able to get into the private elevator without needing to be carried.

Angel files that idea away for another time as his intercom buzzes.

"Angel, I know you said not to interrupt you, but your two-thirty is here," Harmony's voice comes through the little speaker.

Wesley and Spike look at him, neither one sure quite what to do.

"The bed's big enough for three," Spike points out.

"Go on," Angel says, shaking his head. "I can make it through the rest of the day without killing anyone."

Spike doesn't need to be told twice; he tugs Wesley toward the elevator. "You know where to find us if you can't," he says seriously, and the unspoken concern for him touches Angel more than he'd ever admit.

As the elevator doors slide shut, Angel looks at his watch. Maybe if he gets through his meeting quickly enough he can get back upstairs before the two of them wear each other out.


End file.
